


Genie in a Teapot?

by accio_destiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Genie Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, lol that would be a tag already
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7092352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accio_destiel/pseuds/accio_destiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds a magical genie who is going to make all his wishes come true. Figures that Dean's deepest desire would be something impossible. He just want someone to take care of him instead of the other way around for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Genie in a Teapot?

**Author's Note:**

> Wow that summary was bad I'm sorry. I know where I want this fic to go, but I'm not sure how it's gonna get there so I may be adding tags/characters/changing ratings a long the way. I would love some comments, especially if there's anything specific you want to see from this!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thanks to @thecuriouscrusader for helping me edit this chapter. I'm sure if I had the patience I could figure out how to link her tumblr there, but my computer is being really fucking slow and even typing this out is a huge pain in the ass so I'm sorry! Hope you guys enjoy this. Constructive criticism is appreciated so long as you are gentle with my tender heart. This idea was inspired by a tumblr post that I will bother linking the moment my computer stops lagging like crazy.

_Witchie_ _Woman_  

  

Dean snorted at the wooden sign hanging above the little shop in front of him, complete with a black cauldron printed in the wood next to the words. He gave them bonus points for the Eagles reference, even if they had spelled witchy wrong. It was probably that way to avoid copyright or something. Didn't matter, Dean needed a gift for Sam and some weird antique from a store like this would be the perfect thing. Dean wasn't super excited to peruse the aisles of some witch shop, but there was no way in hell he was going to a farmers market or some shit to pick out something for Sam. This would have to do.  

Dean took a deep breath of the last fresh air he'd have at his disposal for at least 10 minutes. God knew how dusty this place was gonna be. Dean pushed the glass door open and stepped inside the shop. He heard a bell tinkle somewhere in the shop before a lady with shocking red hair came walking out from somewhere deeper in the shop.  

"Hello dearie! What can I do ya for?" 

Dean paused at her thick Scottish accent. Her curly red hair and elegant gold dress were enough to set her apart individually without her accent adding to the image. All of it put together almost seemed over the top somehow. And yet, at the same time, it wasn't. She belonged right here in this shop. Dean got the impression that she had been here for a very long time and would probably be here long after Dean forgot about this place.  

"Uh, I'm looking for a gift for my brother." 

"Your brother eh? And what exactly did you have in mind? An amulet? Something from the apothecary? Perhaps a cursed object?" 

"Um no? Why would I want to give him a cursed object? He's my brother?" Dean bobbed his head at her as if that would help to understand.  

The woman snickered to herself for a moment. Dean didn't feel like she was laughing with him. But he didn't feel like she was laughing at him either. "Dearie if you had met my family I guarantee that would never be a question in your wee mind." 

Dean scrunched his face together. Had this lady cursed her brother? And did she just call him dumb? If he asked that it would probably be a conformation of it, so he decided to move on. 

"Um i was thinking something more along the lines of antiques. He's studying to be a lawyer right now." Dean had to work really hard to keep the pride out of his voice. He didn't have time to sit and brag about Sammy. He did that enough to other people anyway. “But he loves that kind of crap. He really enjoys things with historical significance. That boy loves to do his research. I was hoping to find something that would maybe intrigue him in that sense." 

"Oh. So he's a history buff! I'm sure we can find something for him. Follow me hon." 

The woman turned on her heel and walked deeper into the shop. Dean followed close behind her, not wanting to get lost among the trinkets, and shelves, and  _thumbs?_ Was that a small basket of severed thumbs? Before Dean could get a closer look he heard the woman's voice call clearly in front of him. "This way dearie!"  

Dean jogged to catch up with her. With the small glimpses of those heels peeking out from the slits in her dress Dean had to wonder how she was walking so much faster than him with no trouble at all. Suddenly she stopped in front of him. "Here we are. How about something like this?" She carefully plucked a knife from the shelf in front her and held it up to Dean, cradling it with both hands.  

"What is it?" 

"It's a knife love." Sarcasm layered her voice thickly.  

Dean huffed. "Yeah I can see that, I mean where is it from? What was it used for?" Dean peered at it more closely. It was a jagged stone knife. The handle was wooden and patterned with the body of a man holding on to the base of the knife. It was colored with bits of blue and red and looked to be in a good condition. 

"It's an Aztec knife. One of the one's they used to sacrifice people on top of their temples." All this she said with a small smile on her face.  

"Um, not that that isn't interesting and all, but I don't think it's a great idea to give my brother a sacrifice knife for his birthday. Something tells me that that might be more cursed than your cursed objects."  

The woman shrugged before placing the knife back on the shelf. "It's certainly a possibility. Much innocent blood was shed with this knife. Some of it was voluntary, but some of it wasn't."  

"Okay." Dean was getting a little spooked. He didn't regularly engage with thoughts about ghosts or the supernatural but he didn't like to push his luck with it either. "Maybe something a little less ostentatious?"  

The woman sighed with a great heave of her chest. "Alrighty, something a little more dull then?" Before Dean could reply she had already begun walking away from him. "If you're looking for classic antique gifts then you can't go wrong with a teapot." She paused in front of a shelf absolutely full of teapots.  

"Wow. Lot of your customers like tea?" 

"A lot of them quite enjoy using it to serve their own purposes." 

Dean scrunched his eyebrows together. "How do you mean?" 

She looked up at him, her eyeliner sharp enough to kill. "A witchy thing dear. Don't worry yourself." She patted his arm patronizingly. He had to work hard not to shrug her hand off or wipe her touch off of him like a child.  

"Okay, well he's certainly a health nut. I'm sure he'd enjoy something like this." Dean leaned forward browsing the shelves quickly waiting for something to catch his eye. "Maybe this one?" Dean reached a hand out gently brushing over a red clay teapot with Chinese symbols carved into its sides. It was a bit ovalish with a short spout and was very smooth to touch. It was beautiful. 

"Fine taste you have love." Dean turned the pot by its handle to see the other side and was met with a yellow peonies flower painted on it. "It's made in an ancient Chinese style. There's not a whole lot of significance to this piece in particular, but a lot can be learned by studying its origins. It does need routine maintenance to keep the clay from cracking though." Dean stood up with the teapot in his hands.  

"Anything too difficult or expensive?" 

"As easy as boiling water love." 

"Oh yeah. This will be perfect for him."  

"Lovely!" The woman clapped her hands together. "Let's get that packaged for you. Wouldn't want it getting damaged on the way to your brother now would we. Perhaps we can grab you some herbs from the apothecary as well for him to brew?" 

Dean didn't hear her though. His eyes were fixated on another teapot. It was pushed to the back of the shelf behind an iron wrought teapot and a pink porcelain pot. Dean wasn't sure how he had even managed to spot it pushed all the way back there. Gently pushing the other pots aside Dean placed Sam's pot on the shelf above him before carefully extricating the other pot from it's spot on the shelf. The layer of dust settled around it suggested that it had been there for a very long time, but there wasn't a single spot of dust on the pot itself. Dean held the pot up to his face. It was small, about the size of his fist. It was incredibly round. Dean almost thought that it could have rolled away on its own. And it was midnight blue. Dean would have thought it was black had he not been paying attention. But Dean was paying attention. He had never felt this razor focused in his entire life.  

"You like that one?" The woman asked. She took a few steps closer to him. There was a strange note in her voice as if she was trying to be gentle but couldn't keep out the slightest sharp edge of curiosity. Not that Dean noticed. He barely heard her at all. It was if her voice was echoing off of something and he wasn't picking up what she had said until the third or fourth time the echo passed through him. Slowly he was able to process what she had said and form a response. 

"Yeah. Yeah I do like this one. I want it." 

She stepped closer. "Do you like tea dearest?" 

Again it took a few seconds before Dean understood and responded to the question. "No. I don't like it very much." 

"Then why do you want it?" Two more steps towards him. 

Dean's brows furrowed. "I don't know." He sounded as if he was only now starting to really wonder why he would at all need a tiny tea pot. "But it's for me." 

"It's for you?" She had gotten so close to him their noses were almost touching. He hadn't noticed at all that she had moved until just now.  

"How much?" He asked rather than answering her question. Her eyes wouldn't leave his. Even when he looked away from her, he knew she was still staring right at him waiting for him to look back up at her. 

"Five hundred dollars." She crossed her arms in front of her and set her weight on one hip waiting for him to challenge the price.  

"Done," Dean answered. Rather than acting surprised it seemed as if she had been expecting this. At least that's what the slow smirk that had spread across her face suggested.  

"It's. . . it's not cursed is it." 

"Not cursed." She answered slowly shaking her head back and forth, but somehow this didn't make Dean feel any better about it. But he also knew he wasn't walking out of the shop without this teapot.  

"Alright dearie, let's ring you up." Once again the woman turned and began striding quickly away from Dean. 

They met at the register where the woman rang him up for both tea pots as well as some herbs for Sam to brew in his tea pot, and instruction on how to maintain it. Dean handed over the money, not really paying attention to how much he was paying for all this. A small part of him knew that if he had been paying attention he would not be happy about it. The woman packed up his items so that they wouldn't break before handing them across the counter to Dean. Dean took the boxes from her and turned to leave the shop. Just as he was pushing open the door he heard her speak up behind him. 

"Rowena!" 

Dean turned his head over his shoulder to look at her. "What?" 

"My name is Rowena. Just in case, I don't know, you ever need to find me again. If you have any questions you need answered. My name is Rowena."  

"Uh, okay thanks." Dean turned and walked out of the shop. He wondered for a moment what good just a first name was going to do him if he wanted to find her. Why couldn't he just come back to the shop and find her? And why would he want to find her? Was she flirting? Was she lookin for a hook up? Dean couldn't lie she was just definitely beautiful, but Dean had never really been into older women. Also Rowena had been kind of terrifying and something told him that he might not survive a night with her. 

Oh well. Dean walked to his car and climbed inside placing his items on the passenger seat beside him. He gazed down at the box containing his pot. He knew which one was his because it was smaller than the other one. He still wasn't quite sure what had just happened. It definitely had not gone according to  his plan to get in and get out in the least amount of time possible. He'd spent almost a half hour in the shop and he wasn't even sure he could actually remember all of it, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not yet anyway.  

 

 

 

 


End file.
